


about out at the extremity

by blackwingedbird



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Eldritch Abomination Cecil, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwingedbird/pseuds/blackwingedbird
Summary: Cecil's tentacles have a mind of their own, but much like their host, they love Carlos and are more than happy to do anything he says.





	about out at the extremity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my name is Emmie and I introduce myself to new fandoms with gratuitous porn. 
> 
> This is written for a prompt on the LJ kinkmeme (https://nightvalekink.livejournal.com/553.html?thread=16937#t16937). I deviated quite a bit, and definitely only managed about 1.5 of the bonus points, but then, said prompt is like four years old, so good odds that OP has vanished into the void by now. Sorry about that, either way. 
> 
> There are lots of things mentioned here that are set-up for if I continue this (WHEN I continue this, rather, given that I already have two sequels half-written). Hopefully they're not too distractingly expository at this point. 
> 
> Shout out to the ENOLA foundation! (They won’t let you out, but it's always worth a try.)
> 
> Feel free to visit me at blackwingedbird.tumblr.com. No, really. Please come visit me. I'm so tired of rambling about Night Vale to myself.

_The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and ends in tears and tortured wailing. So…much…wailing. Welcome to Night Vale._

_The City Council has asked me to remind you, dear Listeners, that the Floating Festival is upon us once again. No one knows precisely what brings about this special time when Night Vale itself opens its borders and welcomes those from the outside in droves -- whether or not they want to be welcomed, or, for that matter, have any idea whatsoever how they came to be here at all. Remember that each of you is an ambassador -- an embodiment, if you will -- of our little town. So welcome these new initiates! Approach them in friendship, ignoring any screaming or insistence that they have just been dropped here from another plane of existence. Gaze upon them and with blank, unblinking stare, show them all that is within you. Speak to them without words. Embrace and enfold them without arms. Grasp them without hands. This is a **very** exciting time, Night Vale._

_Speaking of exciting times…as you may recall, Listeners, last night was the night. THE night, when Carlos and I had decided to go all the way, if you catch my drift. Now I know, I promised that I would report back to all of you, and while I can't say **too** much, this being Night Vale Community Radio, and not the Smut and Kink Oversharing Hour, which is of course on Thursdays at four, allow me to simply say this: It. Was. Amazing._

Carlos looks up sharply at the words coming from the radio. It's not so much that Cecil is broadcasting their private life to everyone in town -- that, of course, is completely normal and expected. Literally, he's been expecting it -- _waiting_ for it, in point of fact, all day, to the point where he's hardly done anything but shuffle things about the lab. The thing is, this is not the account he'd been expecting -- and not just because it's surprisingly concise and tasteful. It's more…well…

All right, their first time hadn't been _terrible_ or anything. Just sort of…quiet. Perfunctory. Which, after months of gradually building attraction and obvious connection, is…unexpected. He'd spent the entire morning wondering what possibly could have gone wrong -- after a few hours of which, it had been impossible not to drift toward the idea that it was _his_ fault, that he'd been insufficient in some way. He'd tried to remind himself that self-blame was the natural, and usually irrational, tendency of a mind without adequate information in social situations, but by that point his thoughts were so tangled there was little he could do but wait for Cecil's broadcast.

He wasn't exactly looking _forward_ to hearing the finer points of his possible inadequacies spelled out on the radio, but at the same time... There's something about Cecil's bluntness on the show, the way he presents these personal details as simple fact, without shame or recrimination, that's oddly freeing. Like the time he'd mentioned Carlos' apparently loud chewing, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd been aware that he _could_ be offended, but instead only found himself thinking, _do I do that? I never knew._ As though it were nothing more than a relevant data point he had, until that moment, been unaware of. 

He doesn't know if this is some mystical Voice of Night Vale thing, or if it's simply a matter of being slightly removed from the situation, knowing that this is just Cecil's rambling internal monologue, and not an intentional barb directed at him. All he knows is that he'd been semi-consciously waiting for Cecil's unfiltered take on the situation -- almost depending on it, in truth -- and now he feels surprisingly adrift, having even less idea what to make of things than before.

 _An update on the Festival, dear Listeners. The City Council is now recommending that, upon finding your initiate, you continue to approach them with blank, unsmiling gaze and speak to them without words…but perhaps embrace and enfold them **with** hands, Listeners. This has been an update._ The words penetrate Carlos' thoughts, leaving him bemused for a moment, until a terrified, obviously-escaped initiate goes bolting past outside the window, clearing that right up.

***

By the time they end up back at Cecil's place that night, Carlos still hasn't managed to shake the mental weirdness that has plagued him all day. He supposes it's nice to know, at least, that Cecil wasn't disappointed, and doesn't think he's bad in bed, or anything. He's seemed perfectly happy all throughout dinner, noting how the rhythmic moans of the new townspeople made such lovely mood music, and seems perfectly happy now to lead Carlos once again into his bedroom, pausing to chant briefly at the bloodstone circle.

It's just that now Carlos knows he doesn't need to feel guilty and ashamed about being mediocre after so much buildup, he's kind of moved on to…feeling guilty and ashamed for wondering _how_ Cecil can think this is good. Amazing, he'd said, and he supposes, on a surface level, it is sort of amazing to be in Cecil's bed, to have his mouth on the other man's skin, but…

All right, _yes_ , he'd expected better. Is that so wrong? Not like, wild acrobatics or anything. It's just that the two of them are so _good_ together, exhibiting the kind of connection he's not sure he's ever experienced before in his life. And somehow that connection is _entirely missing here_. 

"Cecil --"

"Oh, yes, Carlos, that's perfect, that's wonderful…" For the first time ever, his usual effusive praise rings false. He seems…almost disinterested, murmuring sweetly at every move Carlos makes, shifting occasionally, but it's just so clearly going nowhere. Carlos' mind has long since drifted from the task at hand as well, trying to figure this out -- is Cecil ace? Is this…not how sex works in Night Vale, and he's just too polite to say so? Could it be that they've somehow conflated a deep emotional bond for physical attraction? (Not that there's anything _wrong_ with that, he thinks, ignoring how it makes his heart sink.)

"Cecil, wait, stop." He pulls away, shifting back to look at his partner. "This isn't working. It's like you're acting, like…like you're not even here."

Cecil's eyes widen. "Oh, Carlos, I'm so sorry. What you must think, it must seem like I don't want you --" He looks moderately horrified as the realization dawns. Carlos shifts up so that he's eye level with Cecil, kissing him gently, then nipping lightly at his neck, enjoying the slight shiver he gets in response. 

"I don't," he assures him, "I don't think that. I think something's distracting you, worrying you. I'd like to know what it is. It's okay, you can tell me. What's up?" 

It's at this point that something jabs him -- not quite gently, but just hard enough to get his attention -- in the shoulder. He has just enough time to register the tentacle twining around his wrist before it's jerking him down to sprawl against Cecil's chest. 

"Um…that," Cecil says, somewhat ruefully. "That's what's up."

Carlos starts laughing in sheer relief, then promptly stops as he realizes how it probably seems. Somehow, he never even considered this possibility. How had he never considered this possibility? He lives in a town with, with angels and a five-headed dragon, for fuck's sake. It's not as though he hasn't noticed Cecil's ever-shifting, twining tattoos. He just never got as far as thinking they might have a more… _corporeal_ element. "Cecil, sweetie," he murmurs, pulling the entwined wrist out slightly so he can examine the tendril now happily nuzzling his skin, "did you really think I'd care? This is part of you. I think it's…beautiful." The tentacle sort of… _hums_ in response, squirming against him as though trying to get still closer.

"Oh, my perfect Carlos, I knew you would, of course you would," Cecil says, blushing. "It's not you I'm worried about, it's just -- I can't be sure what they'll do, and you're so -- human, so beautifully human." Carlos must look as puzzled as he feels, because Cecil elaborates, "They're…not _entirely_ part of me."

"You're saying, what? Some sort of symbiote?"

Cecil shrugs with many more than two limbs. "I don't really know exactly _what_ they are, only that I can't always control them."

"They, ah, they don't seem terribly dangerous. Sort of…affectionate, actually." And it's true. He doesn't quite know how tentacles can have personality, but he's getting a distinct sense of gentle adoration from them -- and he finds that he feels much the same, stroking the nearest tendrils almost like a pet. 

"Well," Cecil says, stroking his face gently, "who wouldn't be? That's not a bad analogy, I suppose. Though one doesn't generally want one's pets in the room during certain activities." (Had he voiced that out loud? He decides it's unimportant, at the moment.)

"Can't you just…ask them to retreat?" Carlos has the impression they'd be perfectly willing to do so, if it would make him more comfortable. 

"Believe me, I tried that. Repeatedly. They were so determined to be near you." 

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing. The whole thing suddenly seems hilarious, in the most adorable possible way. "You have something in common, then. Do they often disobey you?"

"Ugh," Cecil rolls his eyes, "you've no idea. I do have _some_ control over them, but only if I really try." 

_Hence the distraction_ , Carlos puts together. "Does it really bother you? Having them out during sex, I mean?" Because the tentacles have no problem with that idea. How Carlos knows this, he has no clue, but he's officially going to roll with it.

"No, I just…didn't want to hurt you."

"You won't. They won't." The tendril Carlos is running fingers over wriggles in agreement, then slides itself into his hand, pulsing lewdly. Cecil shifts slightly. 

"Can you feel that?" Carlos asks, intrigued. 

"Mm, sort of? It's more like…like being part of a threesome, seeing something done to someone else, getting a psychic echo of it, rather than feeling it yourself."

"That's fascinating," Carlos mumbles, and it is fascinating, in…several ways, actually, but he confines himself to the currently-relevant one. "I wonder…" He glances at the tendril, and it seems to grasp his meaning immediately, leaving him and twining back around Cecil's body, squirming against the delicate skin of his inner thigh, eliciting a gasp. "So this…touching and being touched at the same time, does it cause some sort of…psychic feedback loop?"

"Oh," Cecil says, eyes gone wide, lips parting, "y-yes, something like th -- _oh_."

He seems so _surprised_ by the sensation. "Haven't you ever tried this on your own?" Carlos asks, curious. He has to admit, if he had extra limbs like these…well, he'd probably get a fair amount less research done, let's just put it that way. 

"…not with you looking at me like that," Cecil says blushingly, and oh god, he's gorgeous. Several more tentacles are unfurling, not to be left out, framing his body beautifully as he arches under the attention of the first, hardening rapidly. 

"There, see," Carlos says, stroking fingers up his other leg, "isn't that better?"

"God, yes," Cecil replies, reaching for his cock. Carlos reaches out to grab his hand, but a tentacle gets there first, wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm behind his back. 

"Did you…?"

"Sort of? I just thought it, and…"

Cecil laughs breathlessly. "I spend half my life arguing with my own appendages, but of course they obey you without you even tr--ah!" A slight red mark, rather like a hickey, appears on Cecil's thigh, where a second tendril has joined the first in exploration, clearly some sort of rebuke. Carlos reaches out to stroke the tentacle soothingly, causing Cecil to writhe slightly as the sensation feeds back through him, then runs a thumb lightly over the mark itself. Cecil seems to have a point. Apparently his own limbs are rather inclined to take Carlos' side. Which seems a bit unfair, and yet…

"I wonder exactly how far that goes," he muses, and he's barely finished the thought -- hell, he's barely started the thought -- before Cecil is borne up into a kneeling position, hands pulled behind his back. Carlos huffs out a shocked laugh. "Okay, is… I didn't mean to manhandle you. Literally. In that I didn't know it would happen. Is this okay?"

"Carlos," Cecil murmurs, head dropping back, "this is _perfect_." Carlos slides an arm around his waist, mindful of the tentacles there, and kisses him deeply. Cecil moans, thrusting his hips, gaining some friction between their bodies -- and then cries out as more tendrils wrap around, forcing him still.

Carlos isn't even sure that one was him. 

Not that he's complaining. 

Carlos has never thought of himself as particularly kinky. Open-minded, yes, but he's never seen much personal appeal in whips-and-chains accoutrement. That said, he does enjoy being in charge in bed, and has on one extremely memorable occasion dabbled in a sort of verbal bondage. The idea of someone doing as they're told, without the aid of cuffs and ropes, simply fighting the intense desires of their own body -- it was, hands down, the best sex he's ever had. 

And it does not hold a candle to this. 

He strokes Cecil's cock lightly, watching his boyfriend tremble and gasp and want _so badly_ to arch into the touch, only to be prevented by the tendrils wrapped securely around him. Pulling back just slightly, he strokes fingers down Cecil's face, lays one large, warm hand against his side. "Tell me if it's too much, all right?" He waits until Cecil's eyes open and more-or-less focus, until he gives a jerky nod in response, before he's shifted again, his ankles wrapped tightly, pulled apart and back, so that he's kneeling, upper body canted forward, hands bound tightly behind him. The position is destabilizing, rendering him still more helpless, if that's even possible at this point. Carlos simply admires the visual for a moment, the heaving of Cecil's chest as he twitches in the grip of his own limbs, as those not holding him in place writhe over his body, sliding wetly against sensitized skin. Carlos kisses him, stroking his cock slowly as he mentally guides a tentacle to enter him, swallowing the strangles gasp it elicits. 

"All right?" he asks, and the tentacle hums enthusiastically in response, making Cecil throw his head back, trying to push back into it, and up into Carlos' hand all at the same time, ultimately unable to move at all. He can actually feel the vibration of it _through_ Cecil's body, and can only imagine what it must feel like directly. "I was asking him," he admonishes lightly, and gets a sort of shrug from the tentacle in response, causing Cecil to make that delightful twitching motion again. 

"Fine, fine," he babbles, "Carlos, please, more," and the tentacle begins to fuck him in earnest as Carlos kisses and laps at every inch of flesh before him, whether human or otherwise. His hands trail lightly up and down Cecil's thighs, and Cecil's openmouthed gasping begins to take on more distinct form, becoming a litany of "please, please, please." Carlos takes pity for a moment, allows his hand to drift, tracing the same light pattern up and down Cecil's cock, but he knows he's close already, doesn't want to make him come just yet. 

Yet another tentacle nudges at his hand, seeming to glance up at him as though to say, "Can I be of use?" Carlos nearly bursts out laughing. Whatever the relationship between Cecil and the more…exotic parts of his anatomy may be, it makes sense that they would know exactly how to keep him on the edge, and are clearly all too happy to do so. Carlos gives the slim appendage a quick stroke and lets it go to work. Cecil nearly wails at the loss of Carlos' hand, and looks only partly mollified even as the tentacle wraps around him. He's panting, suffused all over with a lavender flush, trembling and twitching and obviously trying frantically to buck his hips, despite the clear impossibility of the task. Carlos doubts he could stop if he tried. (He considers asking him to try, but it quite frankly seems cruel at this point.) 

"Carlos…please…need…oh, _god_ ," he manages, head thrashing, the only movement he still more or less has control over. 

"Shh," Carlos whispers, kneeling behind him, kissing his neck gently (and oh, god, he has the most perfect view from here of the tentacle working in Cecil's ass, the thought of taking its place nearly enough to undo him, but…no, not just yet.) "I know, I know. Almost…"

Cecil's answering sob goes through him like a knife, makes him drop his head forward onto his boyfriend's exquisitely bound shoulder as he fights momentarily for control. Cecil's twitching intensifies as he grinds out, "Car -- los -- please -- can't," each syllable a bare gasp. 

"It's okay, baby, you can take it," he says softly, finding a patch of bare chest to lay his hand against, thumb stroking soothingly. 

"Can't, I can't, I -- ohh --" Cecil whines pitifully as the tentacles slow their ministrations, so that he can't even lose himself in their writhing. 

"Shh, you're going to hyperventilate. I know, you're so, so close..."

"There, there, fuck, please -- _no_ ," he sobs, as the tentacle inside him, already having slowed nearly to a standstill, slides out entirely. "No, _please_ , oh, g-god," he cries out, throwing his head back as Carlos presses forward, filling him once again. 

"Is this what you need?" Carlos murmurs as he begins to thrust into Cecil with a slow pace he knows he won't be able to keep up for long. 

"God, yes, _please_ , d-don't…stop…pleasedon'tstop," he pants.

"Couldn't if I -- _hah_ \-- wanted to, _god _, Cecil, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are…so desperate and needy…" He brushes aside the tentacle oh-so-slowly pumping Cecil's cock, takes him in hand, and the only thing that keeps him from going off at the answering wail is the knowledge that he's tormented Cecil this long and by god he's going to take care of him now.__

__"Please…please….please…" Cecil gasps, shivering and twitching around him, apparently unaware of his gradually increasing ability to move, and god, that's beautiful._ _

__"Yes," Carlos murmurs in his ear, tightening his grip slightly, speeding up as much as he dares, "yes, god, sogood, it's okay, it's okay, baby, come for me," and Cecil _screams_ , the sound seeming to resonate on a more-than-human frequency, and comes over his hand, Carlos biting down on his shoulder as he follows immediately, vision swimming with the force of his release. _ _

__He manages to keep command of his body long enough to arrange them into a reasonably comfortable position, cradling Cecil's fucked-out body as the other man mumbles incoherently, head nodding. It's a long while before either of them are able to do anything other than lay there, panting, Carlos' fingers threading through Cecil's hair as Cecil sprawls against his chest, recovering. "'M'sorry," he manages at length._ _

__"Hmm?" Carlos glances down, drifting toward sleep himself._ _

__"Di'n'tellyou," he slurs._ _

__"It's fine," Carlos says, shaking his head in amusement at this ridiculous, wonderful man._ _

__There's silence for another minute, then, "C'n'I --"_ _

__"Save it for the smut hour," Carlos replies, somehow having known this was coming._ _

__"…fair," Cecil says, and promptly drops into a dead sleep._ _

__Outside, the chanting of the new citizens continues, seeming to reach new peaks, and Carlos feels himself lulled by it, drifting down to join his boyfriend in peaceful rest._ _


End file.
